


brought it all up, got it all out, what is it worth, to both of us now

by notthebigspoon



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 18:44:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthebigspoon/pseuds/notthebigspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another fruitless attempt to remind himself that Buster was a fluke. He isn’t gay, Buster was just an experiment in his endless quest to try everything. Except he never was. Most days, when he tries to recollect Buster from memory, all he can remember is the pained expression on Buster’s face when he realized that he’d lost his family for nothing, for a man that would only walk away from him.</p><p>Title taken from Drunk Last Night by Eli Young Band.</p>
            </blockquote>





	brought it all up, got it all out, what is it worth, to both of us now

The girl asleep next to him has brown hair and, he thinks, blue green eyes. She doesn’t really look like Buster, not until after the ninth shot of tequila and even then is far too generous. Too big of a chest, too small of a brain… such a slight body. She doesn’t move like Buster in bed either. Buster knew exactly what his body was capable of and used that to his full advantage. The girl - is her name Marthe?- didn’t do much of anything. Just layed there.

She’s just a cleat chaser, wants to be able to say she bagged a pro. That’s okay with Tim. He used her as much as she used him. Another fruitless attempt to remind himself that Buster was a fluke. He isn’t gay, Buster was just an experiment in his endless quest to try everything. Except he never was. Most days, when he tries to recollect Buster from memory, all he can remember is the pained expression on Buster’s face when he realized that he’d lost his family for nothing, for a man that would only walk away from him.

Kristen had handled it well, coolly, calmly. She’d left Buster, took what would be considered a fair half and primary custody of the children without publicizing a whisper of it. That was like her though. She had too much class and self respect to go around airing her dirty laundry to the public. He wonders how Buster had explained himself… he wonders if Buster thinks Tim was was worth it. Probably not. Well… he’s awake and just drunk enough to ignore that he has no room or place to be speaking to Buster.

Four rings and he picks up. There’s a scuffling noise of the phone being moved and then Buster is mumbling into the phone, waiting for a moment before uttering ‘hello?’ again with a rather cute confusion. Tim must be drunker than he thought, because he tries to collect himself and finds himself with nothing to say. Just finally a hoarse whisper of ‘hello’ back. There’s a moment of silence with an incredulous tang to it.

“... it’s four in the morning. Why are you calling me?”

“I didn’t want to lie to you. To make you think I’d be there, if something happened. I was scared.”

Buster sighs, but it’s less exasperated and more tired. His voice is gentle when he speaks. “You’re still scared, Tim.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. For what it’s worth. What’s it worth to both of us now?”

“For me? Not much. Thank you, though, for the apology.”

“I don’t know why I called you. This girl looks like you. I’ve had a lot of tequila.”

“Don’t.” Buster says, short and sharp. “What’s done is done. I’m sorry you’re hurting. And I’m happy you re-signed. I really am, I know how much you want to stay. But I’m not going to absolve you or whatever you’re looking for. Handle your own issues. I don’t owe you anything and-”

“Whozzat Buster?”

The voice is sleep slurred, making identification difficult. Tim just can’t place it. Not until Buster whispers ‘No one, Jeremy, go back to sleep.’ and something else that Tim can’t hear as the line abruptly goes dead. He stares at the screen. He feels a little sick to his stomach and his hands are shaking so badly that he almost drops his phone on his face.

_**Tim Lincecum:**_ Affeldt???  
 _ **Buster Posey:**_ Yes. We’re happy.  
 _ **Tim Lincecum:**_ Do you love him?  
 _ **Buster Posey:**_ Yes I do. A lot.  
 _ **Tim Lincecum:**_ Are you going to marry him?  
 _ **Buster Posey:**_ Yes.

Tim waits for a moment, irrationally hopes that it’s a joke before it sinks in that it isn’t and he hurls his phone as hard as he can. It wakes up the girl -is it Madeline?- and she reacts less than favorably. He responds in kind by throwing her out. He doesn’t care if this makes Deadspin in the morning, like she swears it will. What on earth could possibly matter when Buster is going to marry someone?

_He’s a guy. You never wanted a guy, remember?_

Tim groans, staggers to the bathroom and vomits before slumping onto the tile. He hates the voice in his head. He hates Affeldt for getting Buster. Most of all, he hates himself.


End file.
